


Like Friends Do

by TooGoodToBeBad



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Dating, F/M, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Mentioned Blue Lions Students (Fire Emblem), Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), self-indulgent if we're being honest, stupidly sappy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 11:53:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28670295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TooGoodToBeBad/pseuds/TooGoodToBeBad
Summary: His next words surprised them both. “I mean, if a date’s all you need, I could go with you.”A faint pink bloomed across her cheeks as her mouth widened in shock. He was sure he was about to get kicked in a particularly painful spot (the nards, to be exact), but instead, she stammered several unintelligible words.“A friendly date,” Sylvain quickly corrected. “Like friends do! It doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want it to. Think of it as practice!”Ingrid absent-mindedly chewed on her bottom lip, and her eyebrows pinched together. “Do friends really do that?”“This friend will.”When Sylvain finds out that Ingrid has never ever been on a date, he takes it upon himself to right this grave injustice. It's not like it means anything; it's just a friendly date, and that's all there is to it.
Relationships: Ingrid Brandl Galatea/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 15
Kudos: 42
Collections: Sylvgrid Big Bang





	Like Friends Do

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! I'm so excited to finally be able to share my Big Bang piece with you all! But before we get into it, I'd like to just give a few shoutouts.
> 
> First off, thank you to the BB and Sylvgrid servers, mods and all! You guys are wonderful people, and you helped me a whole lot. I'm thankful that I joined this.
> 
> Thank you as well to livmoores for beta-reading this piece! You really helped me fix a few things that needed fixing, and your perspective was real helpful.
> 
> Another thank you goes to Kaerra for helping me out with one section. Your feedback was invaluable.
> 
> And last but certainly not least, I want to give a big ol' thank you to Numuik, my super cool and super talented artist! You really helped bring this whole story to life with your amazing art (which the rest of you will see soon enough, don't worry). I'm so very thankful to have been paired with you! I'm not on Twitter, but you guys can show her some love [over here](https://twitter.com/numuik)!

Sylvain was used to girls grabbing him by the arm and dragging him into strange rooms. Heck, he was even used to Ingrid doing it (although when she did, it was usually so she could lecture him and maybe bonk him on the head). But this time caught him off guard, and it wasn’t just because he was almost about to bite into a delectable wedge of Derdriu cheese. Ingrid popped out of nowhere and yanked him into some room he’d never been in.

“Saints, Ingrid! I nearly dropped my cheese,” he grumbled and gingerly rubbed his wrist. “You just about ripped my arm from its socket.”

“Just shut up and look out the window, will you?” Ingrid replied, a very amused expression written in her green eyes.

He raised a curious eyebrow, but she refused to say anything. To the window it was. 

“Whatever it was you saw, I don’t think it’s worth making me drop my cheese,” he groaned as he sauntered lazily to the accursed window.

What he saw made him drop his cheese.

“Goddess above, is that Felix? _Smiling_?” he asked, jaw slack. Even from where he stood by the window, Sylvain could see the corners of Felix’s mouth turned very slightly upwards. It wasn’t the widest grin in the world, but for Felix, any smile was already a big smile.

“Sure is.” He could hear the glee in Ingrid’s voice as she made her way beside him. “Wanna guess what it is he’s smiling about?”

Sylvain didn’t have to wait long to find out, as a head of bright orange hair bounded into view. With an arm outstretched, Annette grabbed his hand and nearly dragged him down the stairs of the courtyard as they raced off.

“It’s finally happening,” he let out a low chuckle. “Felix Fraldarius, against all odds, is going on a date.”

“No way he’s the one who asked. I’d bet _Lúin_ that she begged him to go with her somewhere and he just couldn’t say no.”

A low whistle escaped his lips. “That’s not a bet I’d take.” 

“I almost can’t believe it,” she giggled, the sound of it cutting through him and curling up against his beating heart. “But do you wanna hear something funny?”

“That depends. The last time you said that-”

“Hey!” Ingrid whacked him on the shoulder. “That joke was so funny. Ashe and I were laughing so hard we got kicked out of the library for the rest of the day, and the Professor threatened to eject us from the war council.”

“That makes two of you.” Sylvain could feel a faint smirk pulling at the corners of his lips. “Alright, I’ll bite, but this better be good.”

“Back when we were in the Academy, when Felix was at peak _Felix_ , I told myself, ‘that boy is so remarkably hostile towards everyone that I’m going to end up going on a date before he ever does.’ And this was the very same Felix who told Dorothea, _Dorothea of all people_ , that he’d rather set his own balls on fire than have lunch with her.”

“I think you’ve got that mixed up,” he chuckled as the memories flooded back in. “He said he’d rather jump in a swamp — I said the ‘balls’ thing. Saints, I hope Dorothea’s still not upset at that.”

“With the way she and Ferdinand have been getting cozy lately, I think it’s safe to say she’s over it,” she said with a grin. “But yeah, that was a thing I told myself. And now, here we are.”

A sudden realization dawned on Sylvain. “Wait, so all this time, you’ve never _ever_ been on a date?”

“Yeah. It wasn’t really a priority back in the Academy, and we’ve all been busy since then. I don’t get why you’re so surprised.”

“Didn’t Claude take you to that place with the unlimited cheesesticks back in the day?” he asked as he scratched absent-mindedly behind his ear.

“Hmm? Oh, that!” she chuckled. “That wasn’t a date — Raphael and Caspar were there, too. I got roped into a cheesestick eating contest and felt sick for a week after.”

“Did you win?”

“Of course I did. don’t be ridiculous.”

Sylvain returned his faraway gaze to the courtyard outside the window while his friend started pacing leisurely behind him. 

“But it’s no biggie!” Ingrid said, almost too cheerfully. “Everyone’s got their own schedule in life, you know? I’ll probably go on a date before Dedue does.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” he replied without looking back from the window, an air of mischief creeping into his tone.

Although he couldn’t see Ingrid, the frown was very apparent in her voice. 

“Sylvain, I’m pretty sure Dedue would only ever go on a date after this war ends, or if Dimitri explicitly orders him to, whichever comes first.”

He tried to bite back a laugh. “Just come to the window, Ingrid. Tell me what you see.”

Her eyes widened at what she saw. 

It was hard to miss Dedue; not only was he very tall, but he was, as Sylvain once so eloquently described it, “shredded as hell.” Indeed, the man from Duscur stood out like a lone tree in the middle of an open plain. There was no mistaking that it was Dedue they were now spying on from the window.

There was also no mistaking Mercedes, the fair-haired priestess dressed in elegant beige and brown. She currently had her arm linked with his as they sauntered down the courtyard and into the streets of Derdriu. 

“Well, dammit,” was all Ingrid managed to say before pacing back and forth again, but this time at a much more frantic pace.

“What’s the hurry, Ingrid?” Sylvain asked as he turned to face her. “This was never a big deal to you before.”

“What are the odds that Ashe goes on a date today as well?”

The redhead brought a hand to his chin and idly stroked it. “With the way he’s been looking at Petra lately and practicing his lines when he doesn’t know I’m eavesdropping, I’d say pretty high. But what’s the problem? This was never something you cared about. Why are you so strung up about this now?”

She paused. “I dunno what’s gotten into me. I think it’s this city.”

“Ahh, yes. The city of romance — a honeymoon destination for lovers from all over Fódlan.” 

He easily dodged her half-hearted attempt at a haymaker. “Goddess, Ingrid, are you sure you’re alright?”

She threw her hands up in the air in exasperation. “I’m not sure. I think I’ve had too much time to think, you know? We haven’t really done anything since we saved Claude, and it’s weird to be able to relax, I guess. And I’ve been thinking a lot, lately. About the future — my future, once this war is over. Basically, one thing led to another, and now here I am, getting all torn up about how everyone else is going on dates in the most romantic city in all of Fódlan.”

His next words surprised them both. “I mean, if a date’s all you need, I could go with you.”

A faint pink bloomed across her cheeks as her mouth widened in shock. He was sure he was about to get kicked in a particularly painful spot (the nards, to be exact), but instead, she stammered several unintelligible words. 

“A friendly date,” Sylvain quickly corrected. “Like friends do! It doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want it to. Think of it as practice!”

Ingrid absent-mindedly chewed on her bottom lip, and her eyebrows pinched together. “Do friends really do that?”

“This friend will.” He flashed her a lopsided grin and jabbed his thumbs towards his chest while he waggled his eyebrows at her. “If it’ll help you relax, that is.”

“I mean, when I told you my story, I wasn’t trying to get your sympathy-”

“My sympathy?” he sputtered incredulously and pressed the back of his hand against his forehead like a fainting woman. “It’s not about sympathy, Ingrid. I want-”

She raised an eyebrow at that, and her green eyes almost looked curious. _Oops_ , he thought. 

“I want you to be happy,” he finished lamely and offered a spiritless shrug before running his fingers through his crimson hair. “But if you just wanna stay in the palace, that’s fine with me, too.”

She mulled over his words for a bit as she paced back and forth across the room again. Finally, she turned to him. 

“If you’re sure, I guess. I’d hate to put you out. I’m sure you have plans today,” she mumbled.

“Plans?” Sylvain threw his head back and laughed. “Plans? With who? Ingrid, from the looks of things, we’re the only ones left in here. I don’t even think Seteth and Flayn are hanging around this stuffy old place today. My plans for today involved eating a lot of cheese and napping on this really big couch I saw.”

The frown on Ingrid’s face slowly disappeared, and eventually she let out a deep sigh. 

“Alright, sure. I think it’ll be good for both of us to get out.”

“It’s not everyday we get to visit Derdriu.” He nodded before giving her a dazzling smile. 

“Alright, it’s settled. I’ll pick you up in the courtyard in half an hour!” And with a dramatic swoosh, he turned on his heel before she could reply. 

“And wear something nice!” he called out cheerily over his shoulder as he strode past the doorway and into the hall.

* * *

“Red again? Seriously?” Ingrid’s voice rang out as she strode across the courtyard and towards him.

Sylvain turned around to greet her, and for a moment his heart stopped beating. Her blonde hair glimmered like gold in the sunlight, and the warm smile on her face stole his breath from him. Something funny rattled in his chest, and he cleared his throat to shake it off. 

“Hey, This shirt is not plain old red. It’s _burgundy_ , and Hilda said it does wonders for my complexion,” he said with a smirk. “And you’re one to talk. Is everything you own in mint green?”

She rolled her eyes at his words and put her hands on her hips. “You said to wear something nice. I like this shirt, and I like the color.”

“Never said it wasn’t nice,” he chuckled. “You look great, by the way.”

Her lips turned down in a tiny frown. “I’m sure you say that to everyone.”

“Not recently.” Sylvain shrugged with practiced nonchalance. “And I’m just trying to be honest.”

A faint blush spread across her cheeks, and it was a color he decided he liked very much on her face. 

“I just put on a little makeup, is all,” she said bashfully. “Is it too much?”

He opened his mouth to say something as he tried to see just what exactly she’d put on. Despite the amount of time he _used to_ spend with _other_ girls, he never really got the hang of spotting and identifying makeup. Her eyes seemed brighter, her lips seemed-

“Sylvain?”

His hazel eyes slowly blinked, and he realized with a start that he’d been staring. 

He opened his mouth to say something smooth, but all that came out was, “it looks perfect.”

“Oh.” She giggled, and the sound of it stirred something pleasant in his soul. “Thanks.”

A dopey grin slowly formed on his face. He slowly reached out to take her hand when her eyes widened and she gave a start. 

“Ground rules,” she said simply. “We need rules.”

“Rules for what?”

“This date, duh.”

“Okay?” Sylvain raised a curious eyebrow at her. “Did you have anything in mind?”

Ingrid’s head bobbed up and down excitedly. “I have a few.”

“A few?!” he replied incredulously. “What could you possibly-”

“Nowhere expensive,” she said firmly, cutting off his reply with a raised index finger. “I don’t want to go to that place Lorenz was talking about with the obscenely expensive ham.”

“The place where if you pay extra there’s a servant who slices the ham and feeds it to you?”

“Yeah, that place.”

“Well, I wasn’t going to take you there anyway.” He frowned.

She continued on. “Nothing dangerous, either.”

“Come on, bandit-hunting is not a thing people do on dates,” Sylvain said before taking her hand in his. 

When she didn’t pull away, he leaned in a bit and said in a hushed tone, “I know you, Ingrid. I promise, whatever it is we’re gonna do, you’ll enjoy it.”

She nodded almost imperceptibly, and he pulled his head back. “I want your first date to be memorable, Ingrid!”

“Okay, I trust you then,” she replied with an easy smile. “But what about you? Do you have any specific rules?”

“Just one.” He could feel a sly grin pulling at the corners of his mouth, and he paused to let the suspense build. “You’re not allowed to fall in love with me.”

She pulled her hand back and snorted before whacking him in the shoulder. “I don’t think we’ll have any issues with that.”

He gingerly rubbed the spot where he was punched before giving her another smile. 

“Well, let’s get to it, then,” he said cheerily and linked his arm with hers. Side by side, they descended down cobblestone steps and into the open streets of Derdriu.

The first thing Sylvain noticed about Derdriu was how busy it was. All around him, people hustled and bustled around as if there hadn’t been an Imperial invasion just a week ago. Children frolicked about while tired parents chased after them, and buildings of wood and stone followed their every step. He could scarcely hear himself think amidst the sounds of dozens of footsteps ringing in his ears. Every breath he took filled his lungs with the salty taste of ocean air. It was all too easy to get overwhelmed by the sheer _everything_ of it all, but Ingrid’s presence by his side kept him from getting lost, both literally and figuratively.

“Sylvain.” Ingrid tugged on his arm gently to get his attention. “Do you even know where we’re going?”

“I think so!” He grinned eagerly. “How does the marketplace sound?”

“The marketplace? What-”

“They have food there.” He gave her a conspiratorial wink.

“What sort of food?”

“I dunno yet, so let’s call it an adventure,” he said with a smirk before leading her onward.

The cobblestone street opened up into a marketplace that was quite possibly bursting at the seams with activity. A hundred and one different stalls lined the way, creating a makeshift maze of fruits, knickknacks, and everything in between. The duo stopped at the tentative line where the street ended and the marketplace began. He felt a rush of excitement at the sight of the controlled chaos before them and turned to her with a giddy smile on his face. 

“Shall we?”

“We shall.” She grinned back, and that funny rattle in his chest struck again. 

They pressed on, undeterred by the dozens of distractions assaulting their senses, from the shouts of merchants hawking their wares, to the whiffs laden with the scents of fruits and fried goods, to the glimmering of shiny trinkets laid out on display across tabletops. Sylvain even spotted a few scams that people like Mercedes would fall for, like a (probably illegal) card game of Find the Lady. 

“Look, Ingrid,” he cooed as he pointed towards a small stall with several pieces of jewelry set out. The vendor, an elderly woman with a shock of grey hair and deep set lines on her face, gave them a toothy grin as they approached. 

“Jewelry?” she said nervously. “I dunno, Sylvain. I’m not sure if I’m the kind of girl who’d look great with jewelry.”

“You’d look great with anything,” was what he almost said. Instead, he bit back his words, and the way she looked at him, wide-eyed and almost bashful, sent a pleasant warmth through his veins.

Maybe he was coming down with something.

“Let’s just take a look, see if there’s anything you like,” he replied while trying to shake off the fuzzy sensation that was settling deep in his bones.

She gave him a tiny nod, and Sylvain could feel an eager smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. From behind the stall, the elderly woman gave them what he could only imagine was her practiced spiel of “you won’t find anything like this elsewhere in this marketplace.”

“Is that a pegasus necklace?” Ingrid asked from beside him, the slightest hint of excitement laced through her voice.

“It is! You’ve got quite the eye, young lady,” the vendor beamed as her wrinkled hands picked up the necklace in question and handed it to Ingrid, who let out a little hum of appreciation as she held the pendant between her fingertips. It was a small piece of metal, barely larger than a coin, but it was shaped with clean lines, and while there wasn’t much to speak of in terms of detail, it was smooth and clearly well-made.

“Is this silver?” Ingrid asked, almost apprehensively.

The woman leaned in and gave them a sly wink. “Between you and me, that’s plain old steel. My husband knows a bit of magic, so he takes pieces of scrap metal and forms them into pendants and charms.”

“That’s amazing,” Ingrid breathed with a twinkle in her eyes. “And this is beautiful. It really is.”

“We’ll take it,” Sylvain said as he reached into his pocket for his pouch of coins. 

Before he could, Ingrid placed a hand on his elbow and frowned at him. “What are you doing, Sylvain?”

“I’m buying you a necklace. I thought that was self-apparent.”

She quirked an inquisitive eyebrow at him and placed a hand on her hip. “But why?”

“Because I want to, Ingrid. This is a thing people do on dates, you know.”

“Well, in that case, let me buy you something as well, just so we’re square,” Ingrid huffed indignantly, all while the merchant’s eyes lit up with glee as she watched the scene unfold. “Pick something out.”

A short laugh escaped him. “Way to be romantic, Ingrid.”

She reddened at his words, a violent crimson blossoming on her cheeks. “Well, it’s not like I’ve had a lot of practice with this!”

“I’m just joking,” he said with a coy smirk as he scanned through the wares before him. 

“But I do like this,” he hummed as he picked up a simple leather bracelet. The band was a rich mahogany color, and it felt thick and supple in his hands. It reminded him of simpler pleasures in life, such as horseback riding, and for a few fleeting seconds an almost boyish giddiness unfurled in his chest.

“We’ll take that one as well,” Ingrid called out before pressing a few coins into the lady’s hands. 

Sylvain slipped the bracelet on before fishing a few coins out and handing them to the lady as well. 

“How about I help you put that on?” he asked his companion.

Ingrid nodded, and he took the necklace from her hand. Making his way behind her, he unclasped the chain and looped it around her neck before clipping it. Her hair tickled his fingertips, and his heart began to beat just a little bit faster. 

“Is it secure?” she asked.

“Yep, lemme see.”

She turned to face him, and with a modest smile asked, “how does it look?”

For a moment, his words failed him. Ingrid stood in the sunshine with a shy sort of joy written in her eyes, happy with nothing more than his company. And it filled him with a strange sense of comfort that he couldn’t quite explain to himself. 

Before he could get caught staring again, he grinned at her. “It matches you perfectly.”

The old lady swooned from her spot behind her stall. “Ah, young love! It brings me such joy.”

Sylvain could feel his cheeks heat up at her words, and the little squeak Ingrid made when she heard her words did something funny to his breathing. And the way she brought her hands to her face to hide her blush, and the absence of a denial-

“Well, thank you very much,” he said cheerily in an effort to bring himself back to reality. “We’ll get out of your hair now.”

Before he could turn on his heel and continue their adventure, the merchant gestured for him to come closer. 

“You’re a very lucky young man, you know,” she murmured cheekily when he leaned in before giving him a sly wink and jabbing her thumb towards Ingrid, who watched them with an interested expression.

A devious smirk crossed his face as he whispered back, “I know I am.”

“Don’t go breaking her heart, young man.” She gave him one last wise smile when he pulled away from her.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” he said brightly, and with a dramatic swoosh, he turned on his heel and made his way back beside Ingrid.

“What did she tell you, Sylvain?” Ingrid tugged at his arm impatiently like an antsy child. Her brows were knitted together, and her lips were pressed together in a tight line.

“Nothing you need to fret about,” he said, and when her mouth twisted into a small frown, he relented. “She was just telling me what a lucky guy I was.”

“I suppose that makes sense. I’d imagine we got a great deal on the-”

“Not in that way, Ingrid.” He couldn’t keep the playfulness out of his voice now. When she cocked her head at him and saw the self-satisfied smirk that was forming on his face, her eyes widened and she covered her mouth with her hand in shock.

“In _that_ way, then?” 

“Mhmm.” He nodded, and the bright tones of her laughter, soft and gentle when she was rough and rugged, were enough for his breath to catch in his throat. His lips began to curl upwards in a way that he couldn’t quite fight.

“Well, don’t let it get to your head.”

“Me? I would never,” Sylvain said with mock horror. “But I can’t help it that people think we’re lovely together, Ingrid. And I must say, they’re pretty convincing. If this keeps up I may start asking you out more.”

“You are unbelievable,” she groaned in exasperation, but it seemed to lack its usual bite. Either that, or Sylvain just wasn’t hearing it.

As they continued to walk, a pleasing tune began to tease at his ears, seemingly cutting through the hubbub of the marketplace and straight into his soul. Ingrid’s face lit up and she turned to him with a wide grin on her face. 

“Do you hear that?” she asked.

“The music?”

“Ooh, look!” She patted him on the shoulder in the almost aggressive way she always did when she was excited about something. “There’s a street musician! Let’s stop and listen.”

“As you wish,” he replied, and the two of them eagerly made their way towards a young man plucking the strings of his lute deftly. His fingers were almost a blur as they teased at the strings and danced across the fretboard. 

The music was warm to Sylvain’s ears, vaguely reminding him of better days and stirring something pleasant and gentle in his soul. The sound of Ingrid’s applause signaled the end of the song, and the musician gave them a welcoming smile.

“That was very beautiful, wasn’t it, Sylvain?”

“Ahh, you two are from Faerghus, are you not? I can hear it in the accent.” The musician rested his lute against a crate and clasped his hands together. “My name is Winston, and I actually spent many years in the Kingdom myself. Perhaps I could indulge the lovely couple with a song from their homeland?”

“We’d be honored.” Sylvain grinned at him.

Winston eagerly picked his lute back up. 

“Any requests?” he asked while he gave the strings a few cursory twangs to hear their tune and timbre.

“Ooh, do you know _A Deathless Song_?” Ingrid called out eagerly. 

“Any musician worth his salt knows that song. I must say, you have excellent taste,” Winston replied with a pleased twinkle in his eye as he began to pluck at the strings yet again. 

A soft and soothing melody began to wash over Sylvain. He’d heard the song before at nearly every ball and ceremony he’d been to. It reminded him of simpler times. Running through the halls of the Royal Palace with Felix, Ingrid, Dimitri, and Glenn and pretending to be knights. Horseback riding through open plains without the weight of war pressing down on his shoulders. Before long, another much more recent memory cut through the foggy haze of his mind: the Ethereal Ball five years ago.

He’d _danced_ with Ingrid to this song back then; he was sure of it. It was hard to forget, after all. It was in that tender moment, where he held her hands in his, honest smiles on both their faces, that he realized he might have been in love with her. 

He'd run away from it ever since. 

Now it was back, and it brought everything into focus, from the strange giddiness that took root in his chest that afternoon and refused to leave, to the way his darkest days felt brighter in the sunshine of her smile. It was why he’d asked her out in the first place, why his brain, heart, and lungs refused to function properly in her presence, and why every little stolen glance in her direction left him feeling fuzzy.

But now, he was forced to confront the depth of his longing. There was a leak in the dam now, and his feelings were rushing out and washing away his carefully constructed barriers and leaving behind the very exposed truth: Sylvain was very much in love with Ingrid. 

And it terrified him in a way nothing else did, because Ingrid was _Ingrid_. She was his best friend, the one who kept his head on straight. And the thought of losing her because she didn’t feel the same and potentially damaging a life-long relationship beyond repair was more than a little unsettling. 

But when he felt her lean against him while a gentle song tugged at his heartstrings like a lute, it felt like he was back at the Academy. The same thunderbolts that ran down his spine and shook him to the core all those years ago were back with a vengeance. And when the last few notes faded away and lost themselves in the noise, he found himself wishing to hear them again, if only to feel the way he did just a moment ago.

“That was absolutely beautiful,” Ingrid sighed softly beside him. 

Winston gave the two of them a graceful bow. “I’m glad you think so. You honor me with your presence, the two of you.”

Sylvain cracked a toothy smile at Winston and flicked a coin at him with his thumb. Winston snatched it out of the air with practiced precision and gave them one last delighted look and friendly wave as they walked away.

“Does everyone in this city think we’re a couple?” Ingrid asked as they continued to amble down the city streets.

“Does it bother you?” He gave her an easygoing, lazy smirk. 

“Given the circumstances, not really. It’s not like we’re walking around with a giant sign that says ‘just friends.’”

Given that Sylvain had _just_ come to terms with the fact that he was in love with Ingrid and that he’d spent many years lying to himself, this was not a very nice sentence to hear. Ingrid’s words stung just a little bit and left a dull ache from where they’d stabbed at his heart. She looked at him curiously, and with a start, he realized he’d stopped walking. 

“That’s an idea.” He forced a low chuckle. “Maybe next time-”

“Next time?” Her mouth twisted in a tiny frown, and for a moment, Sylvain forgot how to breathe. Was he hearing things, or was there a note of suppressed hope lingering in the air where her words were?

“Does it bother you, Sylvain?” Her mouth was set in a thin, straight line, and she had her hand on her hip.

“Not at all!” The laugh he gave seemed too uncertain, too unsure. “If anything, I’m honored. This whole afternoon has done wonders for my self-esteem. If people think I’ve got a shot with someone as great as you-”

“Please.” She rolled her eyes and gave him a playful shove. “Just because we’re on a ‘date’ doesn’t mean you have to use your lines on me.”

“It’s not a line,” was what he wanted to say. He nearly did, but it seemed the day itself was smiling at him, because before he could say anything, her expression softened and she got that familiar glint in her eyes — there was food nearby. And Ingrid was on the hunt.

“That smell,” she began. “Is that-”

Sylvain tilted his head to the side, and the cozy, delicious smell of frying dough tinged with hints of sugar and cinnamon teased at his senses. 

“I think it is.” He grinned. “Good old fried dough sticks.”

“We have to try some! It’s one of Derdriu’s specialty street foods!” she said impatiently, and it was hard to stifle a laugh. It seemed Ingrid loved food more than Sylvain loved Ingrid. 

His eyes danced from merchant to merchant, eagerly hunting for the greasy goodness that Derdriu had to offer. Despite the plethora of stalls, it was hard to miss. After all, a steel pot filled with hot oil tended to grab a lot of attention. With an eager pep in their step, Ingrid and Sylvain lined up at the front of the stand, where they were greeted by a portly middle-aged man who began cooking as soon as he saw them.

Sylvain didn’t know how much skill was involved in frying dough, but the man made it look like an art form. With a surprisingly fluid grace, he funneled dough from his pastry bag and flipped his pieces over at just the right moment to get that perfect, delicious shade of golden-brown. A quick glance to the side showed Sylvain that Ingrid was just as entranced as he was, if not more so. He didn’t even try to fight the smile forming on his face as he watched her face light up in hungry anticipation when the chef lightly dusted the sticks with sugar and cinnamon before bundling them in wax paper like some kind of scrumptious bouquet.

“It smells heavenly,” Ingrid sighed as her face was bathed in the warmth radiating off the sticks of dough.

“I’d wager it tastes even better,” Sylvain replied as he took the bundle from the cook and slid him a few coins for his trouble. She eagerly grabbed at one of the sticks and pulled it out with the precision of an archer pulling an arrow from his quiver. It was almost mesmerizing. With a wide smile on his face, he got a stick for himself and held it out towards her.

“Cheers, Ingrid.”

Her green eyes twinkled in amusement and she laughed pleasantly. 

“Cheers, Sylvain,” she replied and bumped her stick against his, sending crumbs and specks of sugar and cinnamon everywhere. Together, they bit in, and he almost forgot to take note of how it tasted when he saw the way her face lit up when taking in the pleasure of something as simple as good food. 

“Wow,” she giggled. “This is simply delicious!” 

With a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, she added, “Perhaps even better than anything the other Lions have made.”

“I’ll be sure not to tell them that.” He nodded before taking another big bite. It was sweet, but not overwhelmingly so, and the cinnamon provided a nice balance that helped round out the flavor. 

“Hey Ingrid, hold this for a moment and try not to eat the whole thing,” he called out playfully. She raised a perplexed eyebrow and took the bouquet from him. Her expression shifted from “confused” to “amused” when she saw him take two sticks for himself.

With a dramatic swoosh, he turned his back to her and placed the two sticks between his lips, letting them jut out from his mouth like the world’s most delicious pair of fangs. When he turned back to face her, he let out a fierce and menacing growl, and her eyes widened before she let out a bright and gleeful giggle. 

“What are you supposed to be, a vampire?” she asked as she hid her mouth behind her hand.

“Mhmm.” He nodded (it was hard to speak too much with food in his mouth).

“Are you twelve years old or something?” she chided him and rolled her eyes, but he could still hear the smile in her voice. “Grow up, Sylvain.”

“You laughed!” he protested weakly as he took the sticks from his mouth and munched on both of them at the same time. “Maybe it’s you who needs to grow up.”

She rolled her eyes again, and that strange stutter that had been afflicting his heartbeat the whole afternoon returned. It wasn’t too often that Sylvain had good ideas, but as he watched her devour fried dough with such gusto, he started to wonder if this afternoon was the best idea he’d ever had. 

Even if it was for ultimately selfish reasons, like finding his own joy in her happiness, and pretending that he and Ingrid were anything more than friends.

Even if they were just friends — she’d said as much. Even if this whole day ultimately meant nothing — he’d said as much. Still, he couldn’t fight the smile forming on his face.

“You’re looking at me funny,” she said in between bites of food. “Do I have crumbs on my face?”

His eyes blinked slowly, as if he’d been woken from a particularly vivid dream. With how strangely wonderful he’d felt the whole day, it might as well have been a dream. 

“No, not really. It’s oddly comforting watching you scarf that whole thing down.”

“Oh,” she stuttered and blushed faintly. “Did you want some more?”

“Nah, I’m good,” he chuckled. “Those were for you. But I hope you aren’t full yet. There’s still dinner to look forward to.”

With an exaggerated flourish, he bowed and extended his hand towards her. With an eager smile, she took it, and a fuzzy, cozy sensation tingled under his skin when his fingers brushed against hers. Her laugh was like the sweetest song to his ears as they made their way down turns and corners, the city blurring past them in a whirlwind of colors and sounds. 

When the world slowed down enough for them to get a grasp of where they were, they found themselves outside a nondescript little building with a sign that simply read “food.” In the pinkish hues of setting sunlight, the place seemed almost homely and welcoming, despite its unassuming appearance.

“What is this place?” Ingrid asked from beside him.

“This, dear Ingrid,” Sylvain paused for dramatic effect, “is a restaurant.”

He didn’t have time to dodge the pointed whack that hit his shoulder. 

“I know that!” she grumbled. “But we can’t just be eating in strange restaurants in a strange land.”

“That’s part of the charm,” he replied affably. “Besides, Hilda was telling me that in Derdriu, the best places to eat are these hole-in-the-wall kinds of places. That’s where the authenticity is. Unless you want to go to that restaurant with the ham? I’m sure Lorenz would be more than willing to get us a reservation.”

In response, she shook her head defiantly. “You know my stance on the matter. Now let’s go eat.”

Almost as soon as they took their seats at a simple wooden table just outside, a timid young girl hesitantly approached them and gave them a shy smile. “How can I help you two?”

Before Ingrid could say anything (and potentially order the whole menu and then some), Sylvain cut her off by giving the waitress a dazzling grin. “Do you guys have cheesy pork pots?”

The shy smile on the waitress’ face widened. “Of course! Pa claims he makes the best cheesy pork pots this side of Derdriu.”

From across the table, Ingrid began to ask, “What’s a cheesy-”

“We’ll take one to share,” Sylvain cut her off again and beamed at the waitress, who nodded her head excitedly. “As well as two mugs of the best beer you’ve got in this fine establishment.”

As the girl raced off towards the kitchen, Ingrid’s eyes narrowed at him suspiciously. “Since when do you drink beer?”

“Sheesh, Ingrid!” he replied defensively. 

“I know I like my wines, both fine and suspiciously cheap, but there’s a time and place for beer. I drink it in the company of… friends.” The word felt almost foreign on his tongue, a strange sound that wasn’t quite part of his vocabulary just yet. “Besides, beer’s your poison.”

“I know it is, but you didn’t have to order some for yourself.”

“But I wanted to.” The corners of his mouth quirked upwards in a wary smirk. “Like I said, beer is for friends.”

Beer was for friends who were definitely not lovers.

When the girl returned with two glass mugs topped off with frothy foam and filled to the brim with amber liquid, Ingrid’s eyes widened appreciatively, and something tickled at his chest again. After a quick assurance that the food would be on its way shortly, the waitress dashed off again, leaving the two of them alone in each other’s company.

“Well,” Sylvain chuckled nervously as he took a mug in his hand. “To good friends even and better company.”

She blinked at his words and cracked a tiny smile. 

“Huh? Yeah, to good friends,” she said softly, and the sound of their mugs clinking together and the deep, malty taste of beer on his tongue was not enough to distract him from the fact that he was sure he was hearing things now. Why did her words sound so tinged with longing?

“Ingrid,” he said her name gently, and when she looked at him with that warm but unreadable expression written in her piercing green eyes, that fuzzy feeling that had wrapped its claws around his heart and caused it to stutter erratically came back. It seemed every single interaction now was being tainted by a dangerous yearning for something more. 

Before anything too incriminating could come spilling from his mouth, a gentle smile crossed his face. “Today’s been nice.”

“It has,” she agreed after a long pause. “Is it always like this?”

“Is _what_ always like this?”

“You know, dating. Going on dates.”

He shrugged carelessly before taking another swig of beer. “All depends on the company.”

“I see,” she replied. “Well, you’ve been good company today.”

“As have you.” He winked. “And if I may speak freely, today was one of the best dates I’ve ever been on.”

That pretty pink blush creeped across her cheeks once more and her jaw dropped at his words. 

“I’m glad to hear it.” Ingrid’s laugh seemed nervous now, and Sylvain knew he was pushing his luck then and there. “Thank you for spending this day with me, Sylvain. I mean it.”

“Of course. Anything for you,” he said, and before she could say anything that would cause him to spill his guts out all over the dining table, the waitress returned with a big pot of melted cheese and a plate full of grilled pork strips. She eagerly set the tray on their table and gave the two of them one more shy smile before heading back towards the kitchen.

“Let’s eat!” he said, perhaps a bit too eagerly, but judging from the way Ingrid’s expression lit up when the smell of grilled meats and melted cheese filled the air, she didn’t mind too much. He didn’t even try to fight the tender smile tugging at the corners of his mouth when he watched her dig into the meal with such unbridled and simple joy. When something as plain as well-cooked meat and stretchy, melty cheese delighted her so, it wasn’t difficult to partake in the positivity.

Even if it ultimately meant nothing to her, just like he’d said. Even if she’d go on another date with a stupidly lucky guy who’d make her even happier than she was right now.

But seeing her so unashamedly happy was worth a little heartache, he thought.

* * *

It was hard to believe, but it seemed the day was finally coming to an end. Their plates were empty and the bill was paid, and Sylvain idly watched as Ingrid drained the last of her beer from her mug and let out a satisfied sigh.

“How was dinner?” he asked.

“It was delicious.” She smiled. “I’m glad you chose this place.”

He spared a glance at the night sky, dotted with hundreds of stars and swathed in cool and gentle moonlight. “I suppose we should be making our way back to the others.”

And make our way back to being “just friends,” he thought glumly. Now that his very good idea had run its course, Sylvain was left with the bitter aftermath. The heartache lingered like a bad hangover.

At least the stars were pretty tonight. He could walk her back, and they could _ooh_ and _ahh_ at the bright lights in the sky. He could bid her a very good night, maybe sneak a joke in about a good night kiss, and then tomorrow they’d go back to being just-

“Not yet.”

“What?” he said.

Her voice sounded so uncharacteristically tiny in the moment. “I sort of don’t wanna go back yet.”

He could only pray that his voice didn’t sound as hopeful as he felt. “Why?”

“I don’t really know why,” she replied softly. “But can we go to the beach? Just stay for a while?”

He nodded, and before he realized it, the sound of stone underneath their boots quickly turned into crunching sand, all while the crashing of waves on the shore drowned out his heartbeat in his ears. 

She plopped down on the sand and patted the space beside her. “Won’t you sit with me?”

Without a word, he sat down beside her, and for the umpteenth time that day, his breath caught in his throat. Everything about her, from the green in her eyes, the gold of her hair, and the glint of metal from her necklace, seemed to sparkle in the moonlight. Her hand found its way on top of his, and his nerves seemingly caught fire in the spark from their sudden contact.

“Thank you for today, Sylvain. I truly mean it,” she breathed. Her hand found its way to her necklace, and her index finger and thumb rubbed at the pegasus pendant like a good luck charm. 

“You’ve made today really special for me, and I wanted to let you know how much I appreciate all you’ve done for me today,” she continued.

“I’m just glad I got to spend this time with you, you know? I wanted to do right by you, make this memorable for you.”

“I know, and you did,” she replied, giggling softly, and Goddess above, she looked so perfect under the light of the stars. All of a sudden, her eyes lit up and she turned her gaze towards the night sky. 

“Look! A shooting star!”

Sure enough, in the deep blue of the night, a lone white light streaked its way across the vast expanse of the sky, leaving a brilliantly bright path in its wake. She watched in awe as it made its solitary journey across the sky.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she whispered.

He wouldn’t have known; he wasn’t looking at it.

“Yeah, she is.”

And when she turned her head, she blushed weakly and the longing written in her eyes seemed so much brighter in the darkness of the night. 

“Sylvain,” her voice sounded like a heartfelt whisper, and the sound of his name sent his senses into overdrive. “Is this… is this for real? Are you for real?”

Never let it be said that Sylvain was not brave.

“This is as real as you want it to be, Ingrid,” he replied gently.

“This can’t be,” she replied in disbelief, but she didn’t shy away when he leaned in towards her. “What are you doing?”

“Ruining everything,” he replied before pressing his lips against hers. Her lips felt so soft and right against his, and he didn’t even mind the traces of beer and food that lingered pleasantly. And to feel her kiss him back was nearly enough to knock him straight out. When they finally pulled away, he was left breathless.

“What are we doing, Sylvain?” she asked again.

“I don’t even know anymore,” he said and turned away to stare at the sea. 

“All I know is I am so in love with you and I don’t know what to do with myself. I’ve spent these last few years lying to myself, but it’s always been you, Ingrid. It’ll always be you. It’ll never not be. You’ve always been there for me, especially when I didn’t deserve you. I still don’t, and…” Sylvain trailed off and lost his words when he saw the shy smile on her face. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because I’ve spent a lot of time worrying what you would do if I told you I loved you,” she hummed. “And I guess now I’m going to find out.”

Her lips found his, and she melted against him, only to pull away and leave him gasping for breath, and his heart soared at the realization that he was perhaps the luckiest guy in the whole world right now. 

“I almost didn’t want to agree to this date,” Ingrid admitted. “I thought I was only going to hurt myself, because you said it wouldn’t mean anything-”

“Only if you didn’t want it to!”

“And I really wanted it to mean something, because I’m very much in love with you, Sylvain.”

He leaned his head in towards her, and once again their lips were pressed together, and Sylvain knew then and there that he would never get tired of feeling Ingrid’s lips against his. Even when she pulled away, his lips still tingled and his breath was stolen from his lungs once again. 

“Not bad for a first date, huh?” he chuckled breathlessly.

“I don’t know how you’re going to outdo yourself on the next one,” she giggled. 

The next one. Now that was a thought.

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT:[Here's](https://twitter.com/Numuik/status/1348340391096045568) a link to the tweet with the artwork! 
> 
> Some last notes to wrap things up:
> 
> I actually researched for a funny joke for Ashe and Ingrid but couldn't find a way to insert it into the story nicely, so here goes. Here's what got them kicked out of the library: "Which knight always catches his enemies off guard? Sir Prise."
> 
> If you caught my Parkway Drive reference, you are a certified Cool Guy.
> 
> Thanks for reading, and I hope you guys liked this! Until next time!


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